P s 

^535 




Y 



Qa R 1^1 & ^#f^ w ^rei:» 





m 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

@]^Hp Siajnjrigljt ]|0 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



CriiLi)Ldi^ 



TM 



X 



iT C^mi SUdW MiCio 



(THIRD EDITION. 



TACOMA, WASH. 

VAUGHAN & MORRILL PRINTING CO. 

1895. 



fWAY 7 1B96^? 



W P K H'.^ 



.nV 



VoV) 



'^5 



Tv.a3T5 



COPYRIGHT 1S95, 

BY 

CARRIE SHAW RICE. 



i 



To my young friends of tJie Tacoma schools this 
little volume is affectionately dedicated. 



Contents. 

PAGE. 

Ill Cliildlaiid vStrayiiig . . . . . .11 

Wheii the Children Come Home from vSchool . . 12 

The Castles of Drowsy Town . . ... 13 

By the Cow Yard Bars 15 

Motherless Children 16 

How Katy Didn't 17 

The Dance in the INIilky Way 19 

The Fate of Grumble Town 24 

Going to China 26 

A Song of Cheer ........ 28 

The Prisoner and the Child 29 

The Mother Rabbit 31 

The Upright, Downright Boy 32 

The Path that Led to the Lake 33 

In the Clouds 35 

The Little Man Who Couldn't Keep Still • • • 37 

Our Watdiword 39 

Giving Thanks ........ 40 

Youth's Apostrophe to Nature ..... 42 

The Bird in the Withered Tree 46 

Right of Way ••...••. 48 

A Visit to the Old Man of the Sea 50 

Rose of the Glen 53 

The Children's Flowers .... . . 58 

At the Crossing ..... • • • 59 

Indian-Pipes ..... ... 60 

September . . . . . . . . .61 

His Stor}^ 62 

A New Leaf ........ .69 

The Evergreen State 70 



IN CHII.DLAND STRA.YING. 



In Childland Straying. 

N child-land straying, 
'Mid zephyrs playing, 
And shadowvS shifting 
Sweet thovights came drifting. 



WHEN THE CHII^DREN COME HOME FROM SCHOOL 



When the Children Come Home from School. 



A 



S the children came home from school, I stood, 

While shadows bej^aii to fall, 
And watched for the gleam of a purple hood. 

And the flash of a scarlet shawl ; 
And a big fur cap on a curly head. 

And a jacket of navy blue — 
My boy and girl, with cheeks as red 

As the sunset's rosiest hue. 

Then, turning, I drew the table out, 

And laid on the snowy cloth, 
And smiled when I heard their ringing shout 

At sight of the steaming broth. 
A laugh, a rush of the frosty air, 

A hood and cap on the chairs. 
A boy and girl at the table there. 

As hungry as twenty bears. 

They teJl me a story of woe and wrong, 

Another of pleasant tricks ; 
Then how the teacher was all day long 

As cross as any two sticks. 
"And were you good, my Susie and Jim ?" 

"Oh, mamma," they cry, " we were ! " 
And what she easily proves by him 
He as readily proves by her. 

"My darlings must ever be good and kind," 

I say, with an inward sigh. 
And then in my heart. "May they never find 

A judge less gentle than I;" 
And, Oh ! When the Father of all, above, 

Shall call us from earthly rule, 
May He as fondly excuse and love 

His children come home from school. 



THE CASIXES OF DROWSY TOWN. 13 



The Castles of Drowsy Town. 

A WAY in the castles of Drowsy Town, 
The lights are twinkling high, 
The fays are pulling the curtains down, 
And the winds are wandering by. 

The Giant Night in his robe of dusk, 

Is coming over the hills, 
Bringing an odor of rose and musk. 

And a ripple of distant rills. 

This black man is as high as the sky, 
And his eyes shoot starry gleams, 

And his pockets are ready to burst, well nigh, 
With bundles of children's dreams. 



He moves with a soft, mysterious tread, 
Thro' the scented dusk and damp. 

And he carries the moon upon his head. 
As a miner carries a lamp. 

And straight for my little ones cometh he 
When twilight is dropping down, 

And bears them swiftly away from me 
To the borders of Drows}^ Town. 

Oh ! the gates are open on ev'ry side. 
And the children are trooping in, 

With dainty cap strings cunningly tied. 
Right under each dimpled chin. 



THE CASTLES OF DROWSY TOWN. 



And the fairies gently tuck them away, 
In hammocks of lilies and down, 

And there they sleepily swing and sway, 
In mystical Drowsy Town. 

Then the Giant Night in his robe of grey, 

Departs for a scene of mirth, 
Where brown little Chinese children play, 

On the other side of the earth. 

So farewell to the castles of Drowsy Town, 
And farewell to each winsome fay. 

By heath and hill, by dale and by down, 
The children are hasting away. 



BY THE COW YARD BARS. 



W 



By the Cow Yard Bars. 

HILE the kine looked on with reproachful eyes, 
And waited outside of the cow yard bars, 

On the dewy grass at the milking hour 
He lay, as he gazed at the dawning stars, 

And who knows what they were saying to him ? 

For his wondering eyes grew bright, grew dim, 

While they danced with glee and seemed keeping 
time 

To his quickened heart in its throbbing rhyme. 



"Is the milking done ? " said his father's voice, 
"What ! here are the cattle outside the bars. 
And that stupid boy lies there in the dew, 
With his face upturned to the moon and stars. " 
And the boy stood up and was scolded well, 
For how could the father, impatient, tell 
Of the heights to which he would some day rise, 
His stupid boy with the dreamy eyes ? 

My children, how could the father know, 
That a great astronomer earth can show, 
Stood trembling there in his little son, 
Who was late in getting the milking done ? 
Kut weary of honors, in after years, 
A man looked back thro' smiles and tears, 
To the old home scene and the silver stars, 
And the dreaming boy, by the cow yard bars. 



i6 MOTHERIvESS CHII.DKHN. 



N 



Motherless Children. 

OW, I send this verse for a token, 

I pledge these tears for a sign 
That all of the motherless children 

Are sisters and brothers of mine. 
No matter at all your station, 

No matter your name or years, 
T claim all the motherless children. 

By the pathos of niutual tears. 

All day we are going so calmly, 

Our duties' wearisome round, 
That none may know of hopes that lie 

Buried down under the ground; 
But when the daylight is ending. 

And all of its cares dismissed. 
When the willows are swaying gently, 

Where winds of the summer list; 

In the hush of the perfumed evening, 

When the heart for awhile is true, 
When the stars look down in pity 

And the cypress is wet with dew. 
We'll meet in the churchyard shadows, 

Where the sad graves lie in a line, 
Where all of the motherless children, 

Are sisters and brothers of mine. 



HOW KATY DIDN'T. j^ 



How Katy Didn't, 
or The Tale of Grasshopper Green. 

/^NE Saturday eveniug, Grasshopper Green 
Tied on his new cravat, 

Parted his hair, 

With infinite care 
And put on his tallest hat; 
And as he skipped o'er the waving fields, 
A grasshopper gay was he; 

For he whistled and sang 

Till the lily-bells rang 
To the sound of his noisesome glee. 

Close by the spring lived old Mrs. Did 
Alone with her daughter Kate, 

And Grasshopper Green 

Might cften be seen, 
Lingering there at the gate; 
For Grasshopper Green loved Katy so fair, 
And picture his quick dismay. 

To find her to night, 

In the lessening light, 
Conversing with Grasshopper Grey. 

But quickly concealing his jealous fears. 
He took off his hat and bowed; 
His face was pale, 
And his heart would quail, 
Hut his voice was merry and loud. 
"Now, really," he cried, "I am pleased as Punch 



i8 HOAY KATY DIDN'T. 



At meeting you, Brother Grey; 

And Katy, the pride 

Of the green river side, 
Am I finding you well to day ? " 

Now, Katharine Did was a bit of a flirt, 
Like many a lass you have seen. 
And as Grasshopper Grey 
Was rich iu his way. 
She slighted Grasshopper Green. 
But Grasshopper Grey with his eyes half shut, 
Was reading her like a book. 
And little she guessed 
Of the thoughts in his breast 
From his sleepy, affectionate look. 

When Grasshopper Green went home that night, 
A grasshopper sad was he; 

But Grasshopper Grey 

Kissed Katy, they say, 
In the shade of the sycamore tree. 
"Money or love," mused beautiful Kate, 
"Which, ah which shall I say? 

Loving and lean * 

With Grasshopper Green, 
Or rich with Grasshopper Grey ? " 

But, alas ! for all of the flirting girls. 
And alas ! for the lovely Kate, 

Alone she sits. 

While daylight flits. 
Watching the garden gate; 
For a sad old maid is Katharine Did, 
As Grasshoppers Green and Grey, 

With their new cravats 

And tall silk hats. 
Came never again that way. 



TIIR DANCE IN THE MII,KY WAY. 



19 



The Dance in the Hilky Way. 

/^NE violet night, 

When clouds were light 

As a dream just floating away, 
The gallant Mars 
Invited the stars 

lo a dance in the Milky Way. 

From the turquoise walls, 

In the entrance halls. 
Gleamed many a welcoming light 

On the crystal doors 

And the marble floors 
Of mystical, milky white. 

Now the gallant Mars 

And his train of stars 
The gayest of all the gay. 

At half past eight. 

With heart elate. 
Arrive at the Milky Way. 

Then, soon on the hush 

Comes the rustle and rush 
Of banners and fluttering wings. 

And the sound of wheels, 

And the tinkling peals 

Of golden bells 

On the distance swells 
And throbs, and echoes, and rings; 

For rolling over the field of blue. 
The open gateway glittering through, 

With courtiers bland 

On either hand, 
And beauteous maidens at her command; 



TIIR DANCE IN THE MII.KY WAY 



Bright as the glow of a sunset dream, 
Her chariot drawn by a butterily team, 

With escorts and guiders, 

And manly outriders, 
The Princess Venus in state appears, 
In the midst of music and echoing cheers. 

Great Jupiter comes in his coat of flame, 

Escorting the Asteroid girls. 

One in a dress of emerald green 
And one with auburn curls, 

And Mrs. Saturn arrayed in white 

With her eight pretty moons is a lovely sight. 

In the mid.5t of mirth, 

The beautiful Earth 
In a robe of l)eryl appears, 
And is greeted with hearty cheers; 
Then Neptune gives her his arm and they 
Go whirling adown the Milky Way; 
But pause when they reach the end of the hall, 
For the dances there have assembled all, 
And merry faces begin to fall, 
For the fiddlers are late at the Planet's ball. 



Then rings a shout 

From the gates without, 
Through the courts of the Milky Way, 

And now revealed. 

In the azure field 
Approaches a grand array; 



TIIR DANCE IN THE MILKY WAY 



To merry music of swiuging spheres, 
Slow!}' the dazzling army nears, 

And up the arch, 

On Lis wondrous march. 
To blare of bugles and roll of drums. 
The stately leader, Orion, comes. 

With princely grace 

He takes his place 
On a throne of silver and pearl; 

Now ready are all, 

Now opens the ball, 
Now hop, now step and now whirl. 
And who can imagine the wondrous scene? 
The lights of soft, mysterious sheen, 
Falling over the sapphire walls. 
The open courts and the entrance halls; 

The rhythmic beat 

Of the dancers' feet. 
As they form in"a ring. 

And circle and swing, 
And daytime care to the breezes fling; 

Orion's throne, 

And the wild, sweet tone 
Of the music's spell as it rises and swells 
And thrills and echoes and trembles and 
dwells, 

Till the heavens shake, 

And the angels wake 
To list to the musical throb and roll. 
Like the glorious song of a ransomed soul, 
And strive its tremulous course to trace, 
As it faints and dies on the rim of space. 



THR DANCE IN THE MII.KY WAY, 



The gallant Mars, 

And a group of stars 
Go circling over the heights; 

By glittering ways 

They dance to the blaze, 
Of the beautiful Northern Lights; 
And Venus, upon their return has made, 
The Big Dipper full of orangeade, 
And all go up to the Crystal bar 
And drink the health of the Evening vStar. 



Comes the Pleiades, 

With indolent ease, 
On the arm of the Man in the Moon; 

And all goes well 

As a marriage bell 
Till after the midnight noon. 
When a careless fellow from Sapphire Vale, 
Chances to tread on a Comet's tail, 
And a challenge follows; but Marshal Mars, 
Arrests the whole of the Shooting Stars. 

In the silvery light 

Of their starry height. 
They dance till the night is done, 

Then say good-bye. 

And over the sky 
Roll homeward, every one; 
The music dies with a quivering thrill, 
As Orion rides down a violet hill. 
And the Dog Stars only are left to bay 
Through the empty courts of the INIilky Way 



THR DANCE IN THE MILKY WAY. 



23 



The Sun of the earth, — 

Though a lad of worth — 
Next morning forgets to rise, 

vSweet Venus retires, 

And the day expires 
Ere ever she opens her eyes; 
And the careless fellow from Sapphire Vale 
Is bruised by a stroke from the comet's tail, 
And his relatives kindly lay him away 
To regain his strength for another affray. 

Poor Saturn is sad, 

She cannot be glad, 
For soiled is her mantle of white. 

But her eight pretty moons 

Are crazy as loons 
For another such wonderful night; 

And the gallant Mars 

Has promised the stars 
That on some mystical future day, 
They will meet and dance 

Again, perchance, 
In the beautiful Milky Way. 



THE FATE OF GRUMBLE TOWN. 






The Fate of Grumble Town. 

HERB are the ruins of Grumble Town, 
And here is the pathway stretching down, 
To where the waters so blankly frown 

In the face of the smiling sun; 
And there is the spot where the Princess sat,— 
The vain little Princess Ernestadt,— 
While wishing the terrible wishes that 
Were granted as soon as done. 

The song birds sang in the leafy wood, 
The froggies croaked as loud as they could, 
The sun was going to bed as he should 

When the cross little Princess went 
And sat her down by the river side, 
And sullenly gazed in the rushing tide, 
And moped and gazed and grumbled and cried, 

Till she gave her feelings vent. 

And said, "I wish that the frogs would hush, 
I wish that the waters would cease to rush, 
I wish that the west would never flush 

With a sunset glow any more; 
But ever the sun keep blazing down 
Till it burned the world to a coffee brown. 
And all of the people in Grumble Town 

From the palace down to the shore." 



THE FATE OF GRUMBLE TOWN. 25 



The milk of kindness was changed to curds 
In the breast of a fairy who heard her words, 
And she hushed the songs of the singing birds, 

The frogs at once grew still; 
The sun flew up to the zenith high, 
And blazed and gazed with a brassy eye, 
Till it burned the people, brown and dry, 

Thus working the Princess' will. 

Seeing the woe she had brought about. 

The little Princess began to pout, 

She tried to complain,— her tongue fell out, 

So she tore at her golden hair; 
And in the face of the heaven's frown 
The tongueless race to die lay down 
And that was the end of Grumble Town, 

And all of the people there. 



26 GOING TO CHINA. 



Going to China. 

T OOLY Jiolooly aud Billy Cum Bell, 
•'~^Oue day while wandering thro' the dell, 
Came to a hole in the yielding sand, 
That led straight downward to China-land. 

Said Looly Bolooly, "I have no doubt 
That we can go down and find our way out, 
My nursery has said that it leads right down 
And into the beautiful China-town." 

"Suppose we go," said Billy Cum Bell; 

"Just think of the stories that we could tell. 
When we got back, of our wondrous trip, 
To the people who ^o in a stupid ship." 

"Why, as to that," said Looly Boloo, 
"I think I would like it as well as you," 
So she took off her bonnet and threw it down, 
And smoothed her clustering curls of brown. 

And Billy Cum Bell took off his hat, 
And both were ready when he'd done that. 
So, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand, 
They started downward for China-land. 

Past where the roots of the grasses grow, 
Past where the springs of the fountains flow, 
Right thro' the rocks and the sands aud clay, 
Our brave little travelers took their way. 



GOING TO CHINA. 



They came to a bed of the purest gold; 
But, oh ! not half could their pockets hold. 
They broke thro' a strange and darksome crust, 
And sprinkled themselves with shining dust. 

They came to a city with narrow street, 
Swallowed and smothered by earthquake heat; 
They called on the petrified king and queen, 
And took their crowns and their robes, I ween. 

Beautiful jewels the children found. 
In that dark place beneath the ground. 
The mummies escorted them out of town, 
And wished them a prosperous journey down. 

They came to a spct where the lava was thick. 
But held their breath and swam through quick, 
It singed their lashes aud scorched their hair. 
But never a straw did the swimmers care. 

Down, down, downward, they went on their way, 
Until one sultry, slumberous day, 
A couple, in royal robe and crown. 
Stood right in the centre of China-town. 

And the people shouted with wild delight. 
Laughed and shouted with main and might, 
And they built a beautiful golden throne. 
That the children knew was to be their own. 

And there they ruled the city at will, 
And there they might have been ruling still. 
Had not the hour come round to sup. 
And noisy Leigh came and woke them up. 



A SONG OF CHEER. 



For the King and Queen of China-town, 
Where the rays of the setting sun fell down, 
Lay fast asleep with their tangled hair, 
A royally dirty and worn out pair. 



^^ 



A Song of Cheer. 

r^ OME banish that frown from your face 
The planets are whirling thro' space, 
The roses are blowing, 
The grasses are growing, 

The rivers are rushing to sea; 
Shall you and you only stand still ? 
ArisC; go to work with a will ! 
Don't pause at the foot of the hill 

To sigh for what never can be. 

Tho' crossed in some beautiful hope, 
Don't sit in the stillness and mope, 

With wrongs to be righting. 

And foes to be fighting, 
Each moment is precious as gold; 
The rivers rush on all the day, 
The planets whirl 'round on their w^ay. 
Be ready and steady as they. 

And see what the future will hold. 



THR PRISONER AND THE CHILD. 29 



The Prisoner and the Child. 

T_T E at his prison window, 

She on the ground ^'elow, 
He in the gloom of shadow, 

She in the sun's bright glow; 
He with his pale lips quivering, 

Watching her sunny face, 
He in his blasted manhood, 

.She in her saintly grace. 

"We'll play keep house.' she told him, 

Twisting a sunny curl, 
"You be the darling papa, 
I be the little girl; 
And this is Pink, my dolly, 

Such a time with her I've had, 
I'm sure her teeth must hurt her. 
Or she never' d be so bad. 

Out in the maples yonder, 

Where all the birdies sing, 
I with the help of brother, 

Have made the loveliest swing, 
And when it comes Octember, 

And Mary Pink is well, 
We'll go and swing, dear papa, 

Out in the little dell. 

These ugly bars at the window, 
Keep out Ihe yellow light, 

I'll ask my truly papa, 

To take them awav to night; 



30 



THE PRISONER AND THE CHILD. 



Because," she said, "I love you. 
And I know that you are good. 

And I'd keep you from looking so sorry 
And sad, if I only could." 

And the jailer's little daughter, 

Looked up with her trusting eyes. 
And he caught in their depths a glimmer 

Of the glories of Paradise; 
And he saw a wondrous vision, 

With love and sweetness rife, 
In place of the dreary image 

Of a ruined and wasted life. 

That night when the moon was shining. 

He knelt on his prison floor. 
And gazed at the placid heavens, 

He soon should see no more; 
'Oh, God ! had some one loved me, 

Like that dear child," he said, 
'Ere all the good within me 

Grew withered and cold and dead." 

Oh ! trusting heart of childhood. 

Oh ! manhood stained with sin. 
Gazing with eyes despairing 

In the face of the might have been; 
Let us guard with love and kindness, 

The children of to day, 
Lest future years may find them 

Lost and wandered away. 



THE MOTHER RABBIT. 



The Hother Rabbit. 

IV/rY cat. with the delicate, snowy throat, 
So staid and so steady of habit, 
Now what have you brought from the field to day, 
But a beautiful mother rabbit ? 

Just think of the little ones in their bed, 
All waiting for mother to feed them. 

They'll wake in the night and cry in their fright. 
For mother who will not heed them. 

Oh kitty ! so shy and pretty, 

You wouldn't have done it would you ? 

If you could have known of the babies alone. 
You couldn't have done it, could you ? 

They'll cuddle close in their nest alone, 
All night they will watch and listen. 

Expecting to see through the dreary gloom. 
Her brown eyes glimmer and glisten. 

And now to look at her still and cold, 

In the sun on the threshold lying, 
While you look up wilh your innocent eyes. 

And wonder because I am crying. 

For Oh, Kitty ! so shy and pretcy, 
You wouldn't have done it would you, 

If you could thought of the pain it has wrought, 
You Couldn't have done it, could you ? 



32 



THE UPRIGHT, DOWNRIGHT BOY. 



The Upright, Downright Boy. 



N 



OW who is this goes by 
His face alight with joy ? 
Oh, it is he 
I'll guarantee, 
The upright, downright boy. 

For the upright, downright boy, 
With heart and conscience free, 
Is gay and bright, 
From morn till night, 
As any prince can be. 

His heart's a mine of wealth 
That earth can ne'er bestow, 

Should Vice allure, 

He's always sure 
To give a downright "no ! " 

For the upright, downright boy, 
The right boy up and down, 

Is richer far 

Than princes are, 
Awaiting kingly crown. 

Tho' rogues may often win, 
They're sure to fail at last, 
Tho' crooked ways, 
May purchase praise, 
Its sweetness soon is past. 

But the upright, downright boy, 
In any age or place, 

Is always found, 

The world around, 
First in the final race. 



THE PATH THAT LED TO THE LAKE. 33 



The Path that Led to the Lake. 

IVTOW through the dim light of memory, 
Far backward my flight I take, 
To gaze once more on the foot-prints there, 
In the path that led to the lake. 

I kneel on the ground where, fresh springing. 
Grow the fern and the wild, green brake. 

And search for prints of the small, bare feet, 
In the path that led to the lake. 

Oh ! the tears are rising so thickly 
To these eyes that wearily ache. 

The foot-prints are doubled and trebled. 
In the path that led to the lake. 

You say the wild sands have drifted. 
And graves for the dead leaves make; 

Oh ! the dear old sands would not wander 
From the path that led to the lake. 

You say that the foot-prints have vanished. 
And these are but fancies I make; 

I tell you they're here as we made them; 
In the path that led to the lake. 



34 THE PATH THAT I,ED TO THE I.\KE. 



But, wild heart, we know that the winters 
Have come with the frost and the flake, 

And the rills of spring have been rushing 
Down the path that led to the lake. 

Of those dear young feet so tender, 
Four ever their rest must take. 

And four walk paths more stony 
Than the one that led to the lake. 

But oft' through the light of memory, 
Far backward my flight I take. 

To where we in childhood wandered, 
Down the path that led to the lake. 



IN THE CLOUDS. 35 



In the Clouds. 

N a downward arch of the clouds, 
That was rocked on the billowy air, 

A silver-white star lay alone, 

Like an innocent little one there. 

Like a snowy robed infant asleep. 
Or the soul of some glorious dead. 

In state lay the glimmering star. 
Alone on its cradle-like bed. 

Like a glorious soul that is fret, 

It lay in its beauty of white, 
Ajleep in its cradle of clouds, 

That was rocked on the bosom of night. 

Thin curtains of mystical blue. 

Trimmed in white, filmy cloud-lace, 

Were drawn from the cradle aside, 

Where a Zephyr just held them in place. 

Then, slow, as the picture dissolved, 
A white arm reached out in the blue; 

And a beautiful fancy was mine. 
As my eyes grew dim with the dew, 



36 



IN THE CIvOUDS. 



I thought when our Father shall find 
Us silent in death's chilly sleep, 

With strange, smiling eyes looking up 
To where the white clouds sway and weep; 

He will look on our folly and sin,— 
Tired children, who will not awake— 

And pardon with pitying heart, 
For our innocent babyhood's sake. 

And with souls grown spotless as then, 
With the laces of mists for our shrouds, 

He will take up His poor, weary babes, 
And rock us to sleep in the clouds. 



THE IvlTTl^E MAN WHO COUI^DN'T KEEP STIIX. 



The Little Man who Could'nt Keep Still. 

A funny little man lived up on a hill, 

Such a funny little man for he could'nt keep still, 
He would dance to his work and dance to his meals, 
And tiring of his toes he wculd dance on his heels. 

One dark night in May he was coming from town. 
Where he'd bought his little wife a pretty pink gown. 
When, alack and alas ! he danced off the bluff. 
And down, down he went to the waves high and rough. 

Down, down he went, to the bottom of the sea, 
Where a shark and his family were dining cozily. 
And though a little hungry, he decided not to stay, 
For the cold bite they pi offered, but hurried on his way_ 

He came to a sea horse and danced on his back. 
And rode till they came to the Straits of Skager Rack, 
Where the sea horse's wife and little ones three, 
Were making macaroni in their cave by the sea. 

Our funny little man made his toilet with care. 
For some of the mermen and mermaidens fair, 
With a whale and his wife, — of very high degree, 
By special invitation, were coming there to tea. 

When the mermaidens came so wonderfully fair 
With ropes of shining pearls in their long, gold hair, 
Our hero seized the fairest and adown the ocean's track. 
They danced far away from the vStraits of Skager Rack. 



THE IvlTTLE MAN WHO COULDN'T KEEP STIIX. 



And they waltzed and they waltzed and they waltzed in 

their glee, 
Till they came to her home 'neath the Sargossa Sea, 
"Where her seven sisters sat in their seaweed swings, 
Arranging pearls and rubies on their seaweed strings. 

But the eddy and the whirl of the Sargossa Sea. 
Kept the little man dancing fast as fast could be, 
For the grassy waters caught him and he couldn't get 

away. 
And the funny little fellow maybe whirling there today! 



OUR WATCHWORD. 3^ 



Our Watchword. 

p HILDREN, tell me what to write, 
Here with crayon, pure and white, 
Upon the board so wide and bright. 

Fair and sweet as the morning light, 
Fresh as a blue-bird in its flight. 
Pure as dew of a summer night. 

Tell me, tell me what to write, 
Upon the board so wide and bright. 
With crayon smooth and pure and white. 

vSomething to make a dark day bright, 
Something to make a sad heart light, 
Lift the soul to the noblest height. 

Just one word they chose to write, 
Upon the board so wide and bright, 
'Twas "Love" in letters pure and white. 



GIVING THANKS. 



Giving Thanks. 



A LONE at their little low table, 
'^^ They sat in their little low chairs, 
With gravest and sweetest assumption, 
Of manly and womanly airs. 

Miss Jessie, the pretty wax dolly, 
vSecured in her place by a cord. 

Looked on with the strictest attention. 
While Harry gave thanks to the Lord. 

"Dear Lord," said he, "this is Thanksgiving, 
And Nellie and I couldn't go 
To preaching, with mamma and papa, 
Because we went out in the snow, 

Last evening, and snow-balled each other, 
And now Nellie's throat is so sore, 

I'm sorry, dear God, and will never 
Throw snow balls at her any more. 



I'm glad you are sending the snow flakes. 
O'er the brown meadows to fall; 

I think my new skates are just splendid, 
I thank you,— I b'lieve that is all." 

'Dear Father," said sweet little Nellie, 
Beginning when Harry was done, 

'I thank you for every blessing. 
The largest and tiniest one. 



GIVING THANKS. 



41 



I thank you for papa and mamma, 

Dear God, I am going to try 
To be, oh ! so good, they will never 

Need scold me again till I die. 

I thank you for raisins and candy, 

Oh ! beautiful Father above, 
I thank you for Harry, my brother, 

And Jessie, the doll that I love. 

Now, guard us and keep us, dear Father, 
Till Thanksgiving finds us again, 

My mamma and papa are coming, 
vSo beautiful Father, Amen." 



42 YOUTH'S APOSTROPHE TO NATURE. 



Youth's Apostrophe to Nature. 

HERE soothed by the balm of thy fragrance, 
Oh! Woodland, 
Full length on thy emerald turf, 
My mind has gone back, 
On a mystical track, 
And conning the pages 
Of myriad ages, 
I dream of the youth of the eaith. 

I think of the time, oh, ye velvety grasses! 

And leaves that are whispering near, 

When borne one on the breeze 

Over turbulent seas, 
The first tiny seeds came, who may say whither, 

And fell like a benison here. 

Did eager winds woo them 

And wildly pursue them 

O'er weird, tossing waves, 

That like ebon graves 
Were waiting to shroud them in morningless night ? 

O'er caverns so deep. 

O'er mountains so steep. 
Did they falter and flutter in wearisome flight; 

Now whirling and drifting. 

Now sinking and shifting, 
Till shuddering and fainting in whirlwinds of fright, 
Poor, tired little pilgrims at last grown too weary 
Laid down to their rest on the desert so dreary ? 



YOUTH'S APOSTROPHE TO NATURE. 



And thou, ancient bowlder, asleep by the roadside, 
A wanderer wa>-worn and grey, 

What destiny sought thee, 

And finally brought thee, 
This fitful and wearisome way ? 

So silent and grum ! 

Old rock, didst thou come. 
On the back of a glacier, so pitiless, drear, 

With its rough, frozen passes 

And deadly crevasses ? 
Didst ride half way here, 
And then for some myriad years, less or more, 

vSubmit to a tumbling 

And jostling and jumbling. 

And rubbing and crushing, 

And rolling and pushing, 
Until with a crash and a roar, 

The ice fiend departed. 

And thou onward started, 
To find here a home when the tempests were o'er? 

Old rock, must thy silence my answer be only, 
And ne'er wilt thou break a vigil so lonely ? 

Dear Earth, I have loved thee so long and so fondly, 

Thy grasses, rocks, rivers and trees. 

Have lived in thy history 

Thro' all thy myster}^, — 
I wander as Fancy decrees 
Where the sea-serpent hisses. 

In slimy abysses. 
And life swarms under the seas. 



44 YOUTH'S APOSTROPHE TO NATURE. 



Down, down to the core of thy hot, throbbing heart, 

Where liquid fires dart. 
And up to the breast of the blue, smiling sky. 

Where cloud babies lie,— 
I have loved thee and now do I ponder and wait, 
For some have pronounced thy ultimate fate. 

And must I believe the strange tale they are telling, 

That thou wilt grow cold in a long, dreamless sleep. 
And all of the beauties now smiling before me, 
Be lost in oblivion, trackless and deep ? 
Afar in the gloomy, 
The misty and roomy 
Long halls of the seons to come, can it be 
That snow-sheets descending 
In cold never ending 
Shall grimly enfold thee, 
Enlock thee and hold thee 
In chains which the frost fays will rivet with glee ? 
Thy fields now so vernal. 
Then whiteness eternal, 
An armor of sleet 
Thy last winding sheet ? 

Old Earth, tell me pray, 

If there cometh a day 
When lonely and dying the last of his race, 

In the chill and the gloom 

Shall lie down to his doom. 
With nothing to tell of his burial place ? 

In the vast, silent room, 

Like a wandering tomb, 



YOUTH'S apostrophe; to nature. 



Thy life dream dissolving, 
Thy usefulness done, 
Wilt keep on revolving 
Around the dim sun ? 
With white, plaintive face, 
Wilt circle through space, 
Till the vast, solar systems at last disappear? 
Sad, sad were the thought, oh beauteous sphere ! 



As lower I knelt me to list for a token 

Methought for a moment the silence seemed broken, 

But gloom}' and grey 

Sat the rock by the way. 
Like a sorrowful Sphinx with fancies unspoken. 

The grasses came creeping, 

Their secret still keeping, 
15ut echoed from Nature's deep, innermost shrine, 

Where altar fires shine, 
This message : "The secrets the ages conceal 

They must likewise reveal; 
But know that e'en now in the high central heaven 

Thine answer is given." 



46 THE BIRD ON THE WITHERED TREE. 



The Bird on the Withered Tree. 

A S I sit by the open window, 
'^~^ Where roses sway and creep, 
In the sleepy hush of the nooning, 

Singing my babe asleep. 
He comes with a rush and a flutter, 

And merrily sings with me, 
Of hope and love in the future,— 
My bird on the withered tree. 

"Oh, beautiful birdie ! " I tell him, 

"The trees all around are green, 
]n the shade of their leaves are singing 

The birds of your race, I ween; 
Then why do you come, with your plumage 

Far brighter than those I see, 
In the sleepy hush of the nooning, 

To sing on a withered tree ? " 

Then he says: "One beautiful summer, 

A bird with a yellow breast, 
With an ebon heart in the center, 

Came here and built her a nest; 
And she reared the merriest birdies, 

And one was the one you see. 
And all of the branches then were fair 

And green on the withered tree. 



THE BIRD ON THE WITHERED TREE- 



Now the birds and the nest have vanished, 

And every emerald leaf; 
I can hear the branches moaning 

Sometimes, in their lonely grief; 
So I come when the noon is hottest, 

And fill all the air with glee, 
In hope of bringing the freshness back 

To the heart of the withered tree." 

Say I: "Your example has taught me, 

Oh, bird on the withered tree ! 
A beautiful tender lesson that 

Mubt ever remain with me;" 
And I think as I kiss the baby, 

"Oh ! will he prove to be, 
When I am faded and old, as kind 

As the bird on the withered tree ? " 



RIGHT OF WAY. 



Right of Way. 

/^OUNT life as a field, 
^ With a path for each one 
Of the children upon it, 

Each daughter and son; 
Don't ask for your heritage 

Faintly and low, 
But earnestly, honestly. 

Modestly, go. 
Claiming the right of way, 
Making the right of way. 
Taking the right of way. 

Whether or no. 

The way may be rough. 

And the people be rude, 
For you are but one 

Of a vast multitude. 
Don't rail at the selfishness 

Often revealed, 
But let it inspirit you 

Never to yield. 
Claiming the right of way, 
Making the right of way. 
Taking the right of way, 

Over the field. 



RIGHT OF WAY. 49 



Tho' thousands should stand 

To dispute you the way, 
Go fearlessl}^ calmly, 

Right onward each day. 
The password is "Energy;'' 

On thro' the throng. 
Go modestly, pleasantly. 

Pushing along. 
Claiming the right of way, 
Making the right of way. 
Taking the right of way, 

Singing your song. 

The meadow is broad 

You are starting to cross; 
Go ready for danger. 

For sorrow and loss. 
Then, room on the thoro'fare, 

Room on the lea. 
And way for the resolute 

Army, we see. 
Claiming the right of way, 
Making the right of way. 
Taking the right of way. 

Merry and free. 



50 A VISIT TO THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA. 



L 



A Visit to the Old Man of the Sea. 

OOLY Bolooly aud Billy Cum Bell, 
Whose curious doings I've promised to tell, 
Went down to the beach one summery day. 
To watch the big, blue waves at play. 



Now there was a log on the pebbly beach, 
That offered a nice little seat for each; 
And there they sat very still and wise, 
Big hats shado-ving big, brown eyes. 

Each with a face as grave as could be, 
Each with an elbow upon a knee. 
Little brown chins in little brown hands. 
Bright blue waters^ shimmering sands. 

And then each heaved a dolorous sigh, 
You know the meaning as well as I, 
Four little feet were bare in a trice. 
Oh ! but the water was cool and nice. 

Said Billy Cum Bell, "I wish that we 
Could find that queer Old Man of the Sea 
Nurse read about in my ' 'Rabiau Nights^' 
My, but couldn't he show us sights I " 



A VISIT TO THE OLD MAN OF TllE SEA. 



Then IvOoly Bolooh', peering ahead, 

Said she was sure she could see his bed; 

So they started out in frolic^sonie glee, 

For a tramp on the sands down under the sea. 

A flat old flounder eyed them askance, 
A young crab led them a pretty dance, 
The sea-grass twisted itself in their toes. 
And tickled them hugely as you may suppose. 

They asked a sea-cow sitting at tea, 
Where lived the dear Old Man of the Sea, 
But she only said, with an affable smile. 
To simply follow their noses awhile. 

At length the}- came to a tumbled room, 
vSilent there in the green sea-gloom, 
The doors and windows were open wide. 
But never a soul could they find inside. 

So the children thought thev would look about, 
As many grown folks would, no doubt, 
And under the edge of the sea- weed bed. 
They chanced on a basket of rubies red. 

Now Billy Cum Bell was a boy of pluck. 
So he took out a handful just for luck. 
And when they came to a basket of pearls, 
Bolooly selected a few for the girls. 

Just then with a terrible rush and roar, 
There entered in at the open door 
The queer old, dear old Man of the Sea, 
With a bucket of jelly fish for his tea. 



52 



A VISIT TO THE OLD MAN OF TilE SEA. 



And then with horrible snorts and groans, 
He shook the children, he took the stones, 
And sent them home in a terrible fright, 
Was host e'er heard of so impolite ? 

But the strangest part of my tale is to tell, 
For Ivooly Bolooly and Billy Cum Bell, 
Neat and dry from toe to crown, 
Big hats shadowing eyes of brown, 

Sat on the beach when Nurse came along, 
To take them over to Grandma vStrong, 
And they told the story as you have heard, 
And she wouldn't believe a single word ! 



ROSE OF the; glen. 53 



o 



Rose of the Glen. 
A Fairy Tale. 

H ! but the breath of the morning air, 
Was dewy and fresh and sweet, 
And all around 

Could be heard the sound 

Of tiny, hurrying feet; 
And fair and fresh as the glimmering pearls 
That shone on the grass were the boys and girls, 
Who started out with their cups and pails, 
For the scarlet berries among the dales. 

The song of birds in the branches green. 
Rang merrily on their ears, 
But mother had said, 
"The berries red 
Will be overly ripe, my dears." 
So they trudged along with their shining pails, 
And gave no heed to the birdies tales, 
Of joy and sorrow, of love and fear, 
They were pouring out on the morning's ear. 



54 



ROSE OF THE GIvEN. 



Now tliere wns one of the elfish throng, 
More lovely than all the rest, 
All golden fair. 

Was her streaming hair. 

And daintily she was dressed; 
She would sing and dream thro' the summer day, 
While her brothers and sisters were all at play, 
And a wistful look in her pansy eyes. 
Would thrill her parents with strange surprise. 

She would sing and dream from morning light, 
Till evening would come again, 
Her eyes were bright. 

Her soul was white, 

They called her Rose of the Glen; 
And Rose and her brothers and sisters found 
The strawberries glimmering ripe and round 
Among the vines like ruby gems, 
Growing there on emerald stems. 



Then all knelt down with their bright tin cups. 
And picked with a sturdy will. 
For all must work. 

And none must shirk, 

Each glittering pail to fill; 
But by and by the sun grew hot. 
And Rose was tired if the others were not; 
So quietly from their sight she strayed, 
To rest awhile in the fragrant shade. 



ROSE OF THE GLEN. 55 



vShe spied a lovely, grassy bank, 
With violets growing round; 
And there she sat. 

With her gypsy hat. 

Flung down on the flowry ground; 
When a strange and wonderful sound she heard, 
Like the rushing wings of a monster bird, 
And looking up at the smiling skies, 
Her heart stood still with a swift surprise. 



For a great balloon sailed down, sailed down, 
And a great balloon sailed down; 
Like a giant dove, 

From the realms above, 
All white and purple and brown; 
And sailing along, serenely slow, 
A strain of music so sweet and low. 
Fell on the ears of the wondering child. 
And filled her heart with a rapture wild. 



And the great balloon stopped then, stopped then, 
And the great balloon stopped then; 
By the violet bank, 

Where fluttering sank, 

The little maid of the glen; 
And louder the magical music rang. 
As forth six beautiful fairies sprang, 
And well she knew that the mystic band, 
For her had journeyed from Fairyland. 



56 



ROSE OF THE GIvEN. 



She knelt her there in the fiowers and grass 
With blue eyes looking down, 
And on her hair, 

So soft and fair. 

They placed a glittering crown; 
And 'mid the jewels there glimmered one, 
In the glancing rays of the noonday sun, 
Brighter than gem e'er gleamed before. 
And Innocence was the name it bore. 



They handed her into the great balloon,— 
A fairy on either side, — 
So shy and sweet, 
She took her seat. 
For the beautiful, wondrous ride; 
And in the rest of the fairies sprang. 
And louder the magical music rang, 
Till it reached her parents where they stood, 
By their little cot in the cedar wood. 

And the great balloon sailed up, sailed up, 
And the great balloon sailed up. 
And bore her away. 
That summer day, 
Like a flower in a jewelled cup; 
Her parents came to the place she sat, 
They found her flowers and her gypsy hat. 
Her sisters all came home again, 
But where, but where was Rose of the Glen? 



ROSE OF THE GLEN. 57 



They searched the sky at night, at moru, 
They searched the sky at noon, 
With anxious face 

For a fleeting trace, 

Of the beautiful, strange balloon; 
And oft' her brothers and sisters think, 
In the glow of the sunset's gold and pink, 
She is calling them to their sports again, 
When a voice like hers rings thro' the glen. 

And still they are waiting for her return 
And still she may come again, 
What sweeter home 

For fays to roam 

Than that mysterious glen ? 
And so perchance they will sometime hear 
The magical music sounding clear, 
As it sounded there on the summer day, 
When'it bore sweet Rose of the Glen away. 



58 THE CHIIvDREN'S FLOWERS. 



O 



For Memorial Day. 
The Children's Flowers. 

H! the armies of little children, 

With faces fresh as the flowers, 
Marchiuj^ and countermarching 

Over this land of ours. 
Hearts as pure as the dew drop, 

Thoughts as sweet as a prayer, 
Bright Memorial morning 

Thou'lt shine on naught so fair. 

Into those halls of silence, 

Where sleep the Nation's dead, 
When the muffled drum is beating 

To the veteran's martial tread; 
Above the strains of music, 

Throbbing so faint and sweet, 
Is heard with thrilling heartstrings, 

The sound of the children's feet. 

Over the graves of the heroes, 

Bending with tender grace, 
They lay their snowy tributes 

Lovingly there in place; 
And methinks to the angels watching 

No flowers are quite so fair, 
As those which the hands of children 

Have laid in their fragrance there. 



AT. THE CROSvSING. 



At the Crossing. 

IVfOW at the crossing, boy, you stand. 

With sturdy heart and strong right hand, 
Ruddy cheek by the breezes fanned, 
And sunshine streaming o'er the land. 

Boy at the crossing, look, awake ! 
Oh ! be sure of the road you take. 

Boy at the crossing, now beware ! 

For many roads are crossing there, 

And Sin's deceitful thoro'fare. 

Seems bright and smiling, — have a care ! 

Oh study well, before you choose. 
Which you will take and which refuse. 

Right roads crossed by roads of sin. 
Naught to tell but the voice within. 
Where right shall cease and wrong begin, 
You'll be tempted; men have been. 

For right roads cross roads everywhere. 
And you at the junction, boy, beware ! 

Pause at the crossing, boy, to-day. 

And count the cost, dear, while you may, 

Think on the n: other, far away, 

And breathe the prayers she used to say: 

Then all your doubts will disappear 

And show the right road, straight and clear. 



INDIAN-PIPES. 



Indian=Pipes. 

TDROWS to the breezes baring, 
"^ Blithesome and all uncaring, 
Thro' summery, sunny weather, 
We wandered the woods together. 

In odorous ways unwonted, 
The Indian-pipes we hunte J, 
In darkly wooded places, 
O'er cool and dusky spaces. 

And glimpse of jewelled treasure, 
Ne'er yielded richer pleasure. 
When thro' the shadows round them, 
All waxen fair we found them. 

Like spirit babies standing, 
In dainty clusters banding, 
Snow white, from root to chalice, 
Fit flower fjr princes palace. 

Oh ! pictured childish graces, 

In their pallid, swaying faces; 

Oh ! loving hands that plucked them, 

*Mid moistened mosses tucked them. 

Oh ! fragrant forest breathing 
Of tender memories, wreathing 
About the heart in fancy 
And Dreaming's necromancy. 



SEPTEMBER. 



B 



September. 

ACK to the school room, 

'Away from the cool gloom, 
Of whispering branches in shadowy nooks, 

Away from the charms 

Of grandpapa's farms, 
The children are hastening back to their books. 

The youngest, the sweetest, 

The gravest, the neatest, 
The dark and the fair, the short and the tall. 

The sad little cases. 

With glad little faces,— 
The teacher right joyfully welcomes them all. 

For out in the wildwood. 

Renewing her childhood. 
Communing with Nature, where nothing annoys, 

Full often at burning 

Of sunset, a yearning 
Would come, for a sight of her girlies and boys. 

So back to the school room, 
Away from the cool gloom. 

Of mountain and river, of forest and glen. 
With bright, smiling features. 
Both children and teachers. 

Go cheerfully back to their labors again. 



HIS STORY. 



His Story. 

WJ'E had just moved into town and I had just moved into 
^^ school. 

I was sadly self-conceited and as stubborn as a mule, 
I didn't take to the students and they didn't take to me, 
I couldn't see their pleasing traits and mine they 
couldn't see. 

I had been a weakly child and lived my childhood all 

alone, 
And young companions never in my narrowed life had 

known, 
All that I asked or wanted was my books, away from 

noise. 
And the worst contempt I ever felt, I held for girls and 

boys. 

So, when we went to the city, and I was sent to school, 

I think, at first they counted me as something above a 
fool. 

And you'll believe me when I say, a month or there- 
about, 

Took all the conceit I ever had most fairly and squarely 
out. 

But with my books my lonely hours, I had improved, 

you see, 
And it wasn't long before their scorn was turned to 

jealousy. 
And I saw it with new sorrow, for 'neath Discipline's 

rule, 
I was wiser and gentler far than when at first I came to 

school. 



« 
HIS STORY. 63 



I began to see that one cannot go on his way alone, 
Successfully, unless he has a small world of his own, 
But so long as we stay on this one where so many others 

stay, 
We must cater to the general taste in spite of all they 

say. 

So I trie! to win their favor, was sincere about it, too, 
I solved the hard examples which they brought for me 

to do. 
They were glad of the assistance I gave, but as I live ! 
I believe they thought the harder of me because I had 

it to give. 
In their weekly compositions I would oft assist them 

there, 
Of talent in that special line, they hadn't much to spare, 
But e'en while working gladly and giving of my store. 
The cold dislike ihey cherished seemed growing more 

and more. 

And I'll tell you, while we're talking, something that 

perhaps you know, 
You can conquer scorn or hatred, if you have no stronger 

foe, 
You can even conquer prejudice when there is no real 

blame. 
But when envy sides against you, you would best throw- 
up the game. 
There is no piopitiating;-well, things went on much 

the same, 
But it couldn't last forever, and one day the crisis came 
I was accused of cheating, but just how I cannot say, 
I didn't understand it then, and don't quite to this day. 



64 HIS STORY. 



But anyhow they had it fastened solid down on me, 

No good of any protest,— I would better let it be. 

And the teacher, fairly doubting, but a weak friend at 

the best, 
Hesitated for a moment,— then— went over with the 

rest. 

If I live till all the hair is white as silver on my head. 
If I live till all my friends are dreaming on death's 

dreary bed, 
If I live till all the world is changed from what it used 

to be, 
I shall not forget that moment when the whole school 

turned on me. 

I tried to stammer arguments; the teacher stopped me 

there. 
'To listen to denials she really didn't care, 
'Twas bad enough," she moralized, "to think I had 

become 
A cheat, without my adding idle falsehood to the sum." 

And then I turned from her and then with eyes of mute 

despair, 
Slowly searched each row of faces for a gleam of pity 

there; 
Not a ray of kindly interest, but a covert smile or sneer 
Met my gaEe, with all their cruelty and machinations 

clear. 

And I stood there, shy and awkward, in my shame, 

before them all, 
And in spite of all my pride the helpless tears of grief 

would fall; 
I shall not forget that moment to the longest day I live, 
'I shall not forget," I cried aloud, "neither will I forgive. 



HIS STORY. 



65 



And mark my words," I cried with swelliug heart and 

burning brow, 
"I'll be further above you some day than you are above 

n:e now;" 
And I rushed then from the room, never heeding the 

Older to stay. 
But one desire in my whirling brain, and that was to 

get away. 

Out of the room I had learned to love and down the 

familiar stairs, 
With heart insanely praying in bitter, passionate 

prayers, 
And lips insanely vowing in wild, unreasoning vows, 
To rise as far above them all as earth's success allows. 

Out in the yellow sunshine with its glad light mocking 

me. 
Past where the birds were singing in the shady cedar 

tree, 
Out through the great iron gates and past the church of 

granite stone, 
'For the last time," I kept saying, "till many years are 

flown." 



Well, the busy years sped onward and 'mid scenes all 

strange and new. 
Prosperity had met me and repaid endeavor true; 
But amid it all I could not banish quite the old, sad 

pain, 
For cruel memory would ever come and bring it back 

again. 



66 HIS STORY. 



In my dreams alone at midnight, would come back the 

haunting past, 
And the faces in the school room as I had surveyed 

them last; 
The cruel, taunting glances and the teacher's cutting 

words; 
Without, the happy sunlight and the singing of the 

birds. 

And a sudden homesick longing would come over me 

at times, 
For the old familiar places where I scrawled my childish 

rhymes, 
And so it was one sunny morning found me back again, 
Amid the old surroundings of my wrongs and of my 

pain. 

I had now fulfilled the promise which I made long years 

ago, 
I had risen to distinction in the work I cherished so; 
And the light shone on the great iron gates, as I had 

seen them last, 
And I think the very same birds sang their greeting as 

I passed. 

With heart grown stern and bitter with memories 

surging on, 
I went to find my teacher, — a woman old and wan, 
W^ho greeted me with glad surprise and said how 

pleased she'd been 
To hear about mv genius— which she always saw within. 



HIS STORY. 



67 



She looked so pale and careworn as she sat before me 

there, 
The thought came sadly to me, that she too, had griefs 

tc bear; 
Twice and thrice I tried to make myself say what I 

came to say. 
But every time some strange emotion drove the words 

away. 

And so I sat and listened while she talked about the 

past, 
Until with tears she said how she had wronged me at 

the last; 
But tell me, what became of all my bitter speeches then, 
Here was the time that I had longed for o'er and o'er 

again; 

Before me SRt the woman who had spurned me in my 

woe, 
What I was I nothing owed to her and should I tell her 

so? 
No, no ! I took the faded hands between my own 

instead, 
And begged her not to mention it, — 'twas buried now 

and dead. 

But I sternly told myself I would not be softened so. 
When I went to find the classmate who had been my 

strongest foe; 
But the grass-grown grave I found, brought sadly back 

the olden vow, 
'I'll be further above you some day than you are above 

me now." 



6S 



HIS STORY. 



One golden butter-cup I plucked, then slowly turned 

away, 
With a heart more soft and tender than for many a 

weary day; 
No call for bitter speeches or a sad upbraiding here, 
I gently turned and left the dreamer dreaming there so 

diear. 

The rest I found were scattered, some dead, some worse 

than dead, 
And all my haunting bitterness seemed in a moment 

fled, 
And from the shore of distant years assuaging sorrow's 

smart, 
A sudden flood of tenderness welled up within my heart. 

And that evening, when the first dim stars were 

dawning in the sky. 
And the soft breeze soothed my weary brain with loving 

lullaby; 
I stood and watched the far-off scene, as slowly it 

unfurled. 
And 'neath the starry heavens there, I pardoned all the 

world. 



A NEW I^EAF. 



69 



A New Leaf. 

TT E came to my desk with a quivering lip,— 
The lesson was done, 
"Dear Teacher, I want a new leaf," he said, 
"I have spoiled this one." 
I took the old leaf, stained and blotted, 
And gave him a new one, all unspotted, 
And into his sad eyes smiled; 
"Do betcer, now, my child." 

I went to the Throne with a quivering soul. 
The Old Year was done, 
"Dear Father, hast thou a new leaf for me ? 
I have spoiled this one." 
He took the old leaf, stained and blotted. 
And gave me a new one, all unspotted, 
And into my sad heart smiled, 
"Do better, now, my child." 



70 THE EVERGREEN STATE- 



O 



The Evergreen State. 

H ! sing, slug, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State, 
Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

From valley to echoing strait; 

Oh ! sing the pride of her princely pines. 

Her treasures sleeping in darksome mines, 
Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State. 

Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State, 
Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of her purposes great; 

Oh ! sing her harbors and winding bays, 

Her cities, mountains and water-ways, 
Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State. 

Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State, 
Oh ! sing, smg, sing, 

From valley to echoing strait; 

Come, join in our praise, come, every one, 

And sing the glories of Washington, 
Oh ! sing, sing, sing, 

A song of the Evergreen State. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 909 947 7 4 



